


The Empty Skies

by Talimee



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Gen, Levitation Act, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talimee/pseuds/Talimee
Summary: For hundreds of years the godlike status of Cyrodiil's Emperors has made their home and presence sacrosanct. That protection is gone now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages: "The Levitation Act was a law passed throughout the Empire in 3E 421 which outlawed the use of levitation magic." (http://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Levitation_Act)
> 
> This is my take on how it might have come to pass.

**The Empty Skies**

 

The last floors of the Imperial Palace are only accessible via a winding staircase. Two hundred flat steps in wide circles, once in a while adorned with small platforms to allow some rest for the weary climber.

Uriel remembers at time when he had climbed to the pinnacle of his home almost every day to enjoy the unique view White Gold Tower provided not only over his city but over a good part of the Imperial province as well. Nowadays he is often too tired after council-meetings and audiences to burden his old body with the exercise.

An alcove draws nearer and he pauses for breath.

When comparing it to other buildings of Ayleid origin one may be surprised by White Gold Tower because it's not translucent but dark. Only occasionally small windows break through the aeon-old stone to allow for air circulation and a meagre amount of light. He stands now in one of the small pinpoint pools and feels his lungs ache and his knees burn. He is old.

His frailty might not be the only reason why he doesn't climb the Tower any more, he muses as he goes on. As a young man he has always felt smaller when walking here, the immense age of White Gold Tower and its history bearing down on him like a weight that was his own to shoulder. It had 'set his head right', as he had secretly called it. But that had been before his imprisonment, before his sons had turned out the way they are, before his Empire started to crumble one piece at a time regardless of what he does to hold it together.

He has learned humility in the course of his life, oh yes.

He leaves the trapdoor at the end of the passage open as he climbs through. Light is engulfing him and he basks in it as if he has stayed weeks and weeks underground. Only when his eyes have grown accustomed to the brightness of the day does he step away from the door and over to the battlements to have a look. Cyrodiil is around him, all beautiful and fresh, from the majestic clouds rolling over an azure sky to the deep, deep green of her woods. He feels engulfed by the very heart and soul of  _Dawns Beauty_ . He smiles.

And freezes as he spots a figure approaching White Gold Tower.

It is a man of medium build, he can see, with brown hair blowing this way and that as Kynareth's fingers play with it. His clothes speak of nothing – neither wealth nor poverty nor profession and he is bold, Uriel discovers, when the man realizes with a second of shock that the Emperor is standing on the very spot that is the supposed goal of the journey.

“Greetings, mylord” says the young Imperial as soon as he has stepped onto the piles. He bows briefly.

Uriel nods in return. He is bewildered but knows his features betray nothing of it. “Good morning.” he says. Both eye the other, not knowing what to say or to do.

“Please excuse my intrusion, your majesty,” the newcomer ventures at last. “I didn't mean to invade your privacy. If I'd known you'd be here I wouldn't have come today.”

Uriel is surprised at this. “But you would have come nevertheless?” he asks. “There are many people who would consider stepping on White Gold Tower an intrusion to my privacy whether I was here or not.”

“It's not trespassing if I'm not _in_ the palace,” the other replies defiantly but cannot hide his growing anxiety. “And I can leave any minute if I'm bothering you.”

Uriel considers this. “You may stay a moment longer. I have some questions for you.” He can see the other swallow nervously. “There won't be any harm.”  _Yet_ , he adds in his mind. He is fascinated by the blatant daring in the other man's actions but is still uncertain about his motifs. “Why are you here?” he asks.

“Well”, says the other and relaxes a bit. “The Imperial Palace can be seen from everywhere in the city and even from every high point for miles around, so I thought, it must be the same the other way around, too.”

“So you came here for a good view?” Uriel clarifies. “In broad daylight?”

“If I may be so bold: It wouldn't have made any sense by night, would it?” The other relaxes so far as to accompany his words with a grin. Uriel unwinds a fraction himself as he sees the other under the spell of his voice. It is a knack that runs in the family.

“And you came up here with a spell? You do not look like a mage.”

“Heavens, no!” The young man chuckles. “I never managed so much as a healing spell in my whole life. I'm an apprentice to Golwyn the saddler, down in the Market district. My uncle went to Morrowind last summer and brought me this.” He flourishes a small dagger, it's hand-long blade intricately carved steel and sharp. “There's an enchantment on it, so when I hold it this way and blow on it it'll get me up in the air. Ever since I got it I wondered, what to do with it.”

“Did you?” Uriel asks in astonishment. He can think of a dozen things one could do with such a weapon, several involve himself, an assassin and a dark corridor. But there is no malice in the other's eyes. Can he really be that gullible?

“May I see it for a minute?” the Emperor asks and is handed the weapon. A gullible idiot indeed! Uriel considers for a moment to have the boy killed as an act of mercy. He slips the weapon into his robe instead and steps back from the other, leisurely calling: “Captain.” 

The other's face breaks into a mask of terror when he's suddenly grasped by thin air and slammed into the ground by Uriel's personal bodyguard who's dropped his invisibility spell. Rendered immobile by muscular arms realization hits the youth hard.

“P... Please! Don't kill me! Please!!”, he sobs.

Both men look up at Uriel, awaiting his decision. “One last question,” he says, daring the boy to lie. “Who knows of your plan to come here?”

He watches the boy's eyes widen as he realizes that the honest answer will leave him entirely vulnerable but he cannot lie to his Emperor.

“No one,” he breathes in defeat.

Uriel nods. “You have hereby been anviled into the Imperial Legion. Captain, bring him to the recruits leaving for Fort Swampmoth”, he orders over the boy's horrified shriek. “Blackmarsh's swamps will teach him to reconsider every step he takes and the Argonians' hatred for the Legion will teach him not to trust easily.” His guard nods and hauls the shocked boy away. He doesn't know it yet, but the boy owes him his life. If he is clever enough to learn and listen.

After the sounds of footsteps have faded away Uriel stays an hour longer on the parapet, watching the flight of the birds, listening to the sounds of his city. In a fortnight the  _Levitation Act_ will have passed the Elder Council and with it every spell, every book, every item regarding the art of Levitation will be outlawed everywhere in the Empire.

 


End file.
